Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

“Maybe Minnakht’s been too long alone, sir.”

Bak looked westward, where the sun, a huge fiery ball, was dropping behind the high mountains, leaving the eastern slopes in shadow while coloring the sky a brilliant red. “To morrow we must make an effort to find him, but I suspect he’s already too far away to make the journey worthwhile.”

“Do you think he’ll be safe?”

“I think he’s more capable of taking care of himself than you and I and all our Medjays together.”

Psuro threw a surprised look his way. Seldom did Bak al low such sarcasm to cross his tongue. “We shouldn’t have let him slip through our fingers, sir.”

Bak was not entirely convinced that he had made a mis take in allowing Minnakht to go his own way. The very fact that the explorer chose to remain in the desert rather than re turn to his father in Kemet revealed something about him, something that gave pause for thought.

Minmose had obtained a small bag of grain from the mas ter of Amonmose’s fishing boat. He had found a suitable stone on which to grind it and a deep pot in which to bake bread. As they had run out several days before, the yeasty smell emanating from the pot drew the men close as nothing else could. Bak was no exception. He sat down with User, who occupied a patch of sand downwind of the hearth.

The odor made Bak’s mouth water. “While in Kaine,

Amonmose heard of a man who walked into this desert about a year ago and was never seen again. You must also have heard the tale.”

User gave him a wry smile. “For many years, Lieutenant, I’ve bought donkeys and supplies in Kaine. I know everyone in the village, from the smallest baby to the oldest grandfa ther. I doubt anyone with the ability to talk failed to tell me of the missing man.”

“How long ago did you hear?”

“Six or eight months, I suppose. When he failed to return, men began to talk.”

“He was an explorer, Amonmose was led to believe.”

“Ahmose by name, yes.”

As the merchant had said, few men explored this waste land and those who did were bound to know of one another.

“You knew him?”

“I’ve heard of him, that’s all. He trod the desert far to the north, in the vicinity of the trail that connects Mennufer to the Eastern Sea.”

“What was he doing this far south, I wonder?”

The explorer pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I heard a few years ago that he knew Min nakht. Perhaps he heard the rumors of gold and thought to get a share.” He frowned, shook his head. “No, that couldn’t be true. The first I heard of gold was when Minnakht failed to return to Kaine, long after Ahmose vanished.”

Minmose and Kaha lifted the pot off the fire, holding the hot vessel between two flexible sticks. Minmose pried the lid off to let the loaf cool. The smell of the fresh bread made the onlookers moan with anticipation.

“Have you decided to travel on to the mountain of turquoise?” Bak asked.

“Amonmose told the fishermen to sail south, you may’ve noticed.” User’s laugh held equal parts of cynicism and hu mor. “Any ship they meet, whether at the end of the southern trail or on the water, will most likely be sailing north. The odds are great that we’ll travel to the port that serves the mines whether we want to or not.”

“No, Lieutenant, we can’t remain. As soon as the donkeys are loaded, we must sail.” Captain Kheruef stood on the bow of the largest of the three cargo ships that had sailed into the bay an hour after daybreak, while Bak and Nebre were arm ing themselves, preparing to walk up the wadi in search of

Minnakht.

Resting his hands on the railing, the captain looked out across the water, watching a donkey struggling to get away from Kaha, who was swimming it out to the ship on which the animals would travel. “We carry plenty of food and water for ourselves, but ten extra men will strain our resources. As for the donkeys, you’re fortunate we’re transporting hay and grain for the caravan animals kept at the port.”

The three vessels, the largest in Maatkare Hatshepsut’s fleet, had been built several years earlier to sail to the distant land of Punt to trade for incense trees, exotic animals, ebony, and other luxury items. Rather than break the ships down and carry the pieces across the desert to be reassembled in Waset, as had been done with the rest of the fleet, these three had been left intact to haul men and equipment, and the turquoise and copper they mined, across the Eastern Sea. As User had guessed, they had been traveling north to the port when inter cepted by the fishing boat.

The ship on which the animals would travel had anchored as close to the shore as its broad, nearly flat bottom would al low. Often used to transport donkeys, it had been an easy matter to clear the deck of cargo so pens could be raised. A half-dozen sailors stood on the deck near the open railing where the gangplank would normally be. Their task was to lift the donkeys on board, using a sturdy wooden winch. Be neath them, Nebenkemet and two additional sailors caught the fractious donkey and slipped a sling beneath its belly. A man yelled and the donkey rose upward, kicking out and screaming in fear. Within a short time, it stood on deck as docile as it had been on the beach.

“You’ve done this before,” Bak said, appreciative of the ease with which the task was performed.

“There are few quays along the shores of this sea, Lieu tenant.”

“We’ll be gone for four hours, no more,” Bak said, contin uing a plea that had thus far fallen on deaf ears. “I wish to know if Minnakht stayed near.”

“From what you’ve told me of him, I’m more inclined to believe he’s deep in the mountains, hiding from shadows.”

Bak had had no qualms about relating his tale to the cap tain. He had thought it best to share with a man of authority the fact that Minnakht still lived. “We could-and probably should-refill the water jars at Amonmose’s fishing camp.”

“So I mean to do. We must also instruct the fishermen there to move across the sea to the port.” Kheruef watched another donkey, this one more sedate, being hoisted onto the ship. “I know you think them safe, and I’m inclined to agree, but we must warn them anyway. A short delay, but necessary, making a hasty departure from this bay even more urgent.”

“Not quite what you expected, Lieutenant?” Lieutenant

Puemre, his eyes twinkling, stood with Bak on the bow of

Captain Kheruef’s cargo ship.

The vessel and its two attendant ships were anchored in front of the port that served the mines. A smaller, fleeter trav eling ship-used to carry messages, Puemre had ex plained-was moored with them. Bak likened it to a small, graceful dove sitting with three ostriches.

“No, sir,” Bak admitted. “Not even the southern frontier, with its barren and empty landscape, prepared me for this stark coast and no doubt lonely outpost.”

The two men stood at the railing, looking at the port for which Puemre was responsible across a narrow stretch of water so clear Bak could see fish swimming around the hull.

Within a wall built of stones, the various colors muted by dust, were a dozen or so single-story interconnected build ings inhabited by soldiers, a somewhat larger structure that served as military headquarters, and a storehouse easily identified by its vaulted roof. A rough stone quay jutted into the sea in front of the enclosure. A more casual village lay outside the wall. A few dwellings were similar to those of the army, but most consisted of a framework of spindly poles supporting mud-coated brush walls. Donkey paddocks lay south of the dwellings. A large plain spread out beyond the port, with haze-shrouded hills rising behind and jagged peaks in the faroff distance.